Wildfires
It’s the 21st Century in Britain,
I huddle in my chair
in an unheated room
and dream of blue lights
dancing across wood and coal,
frills of yellow, red flames
radiating heat around the room,
dancing and singing, cha cha cha.
I fill a hot water bottle
make a big mug of soup
wrap myself in a huge blanket,
dream of the sweet smell
of grass burning across the vlei;
a line of red flames passing the trees,
leaving blackened soil and ash.
The flames crackle, cha cha cha.
We have choices to make in life.
This week I choose to eat,
ride out the cold with warm memories.
After the fire the protea seeds
germinate among the lush grass sprouts.
The sugar bush flowers are heavy with nectar
visited by the malachite sunbird;
long curved beak probing the blossoms,
wings a whirling illusion.
A good choice to dream about.
Could you 21st century as title? Vivid images and the ‘cha cha cha’ gives it just the right amount of irony. Then the contrast of the last stanza… great poem. Erm… d’you need the last line, given the penultimate ‘whirling illusion’?
Change of title – ‘Choices’ and loose the last line. Ta.